I arrived in the city where no one stays on a Sunday afternoon sunk in drizzle. ‘People come to work for or go to school and then move on, nobody stays in Boston,’ says poet Zachary Bos. People here are like smart free range chickens when it comes to Boston; they take flight.

This transient trend is the cause of the decline of scene and the strangling of artistic endeavor in the Boston area. In comparison with New York or Philadelphia there are no scenes. And how could there be such an environment in a city dominated by tourism and higher education. The nurturing of the creative soul is dependent on the teet of thriving community and Boston folds barren. The bewildered artists that remain slaver upon their meager reservoirs.

Zachary Bos has decided to be a poet in residence for the city of Boston. He and a group of other literary figures aspire to create a community that caters specifically to the Bostonian’s unique nature. Through journals, meet-up groups, literary events, and small presses Zachary hopes to create a port for the creative mind; a place where a person can be dock and discover what they need quickly.